


So spake the Son

by sybarite1



Category: Damien (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antichrist, Bisexual Character, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6802930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybarite1/pseuds/sybarite1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Go on then, you pervert,” he encouraged gleefully, still not in on the plan that Damien was trying to wean himself <em>off </em> the incest, not make it <em>worse</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So spake the Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Whosoever Believeth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689257) by [astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat). 



> Set in the awesome Only Begotten series by astolat a little while after Whosoever Believeth. Most of this will only make sense if you've read those. This is un-betaed and possibly contains some tense fuckery, implausible inner voices and rogue typos. I am sorry, I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.

 

Having Chloe around to practice on made things a lot easier, especially now that everyone understood why that was.  Things had been a bit crazy before Lucifer had worked it out and had kept wondering loudly – and at the worst times – whether Chloe was a zombie or a secret Buddhist or an Endless, whatever _that_ was.

“Maybe she’s a changeling!” Lucifer had exclaimed, just before Damien’s mouth made contact with his dick.  It was distracting and more than a little insulting.  Damien had scratched his fingernails over the jut of Lucifer’s hipbone and blinked slowly up at him. 

“Right, sorry,” he gasped after twitching _up_ into the bite of Damien’s nails and just like that they were back in business. 

Damien put it out of his mind and before he knew it, Detective Espinoza was angry, Chloe was crying a lot and Lucifer… well Lucifer made the kind of offer that Damien didn’t think he could ever actually say thank you for because he never, ever wanted it to happen.  He stopped trying to put his conflicted feelings into words and bought Lucifer a WORLD’S BEST DAD mug instead.

 

* * *

 

 So the mystery of Chloe was unravelled, more horrible than anything they had collectively imagined and while they floundered in the face of it, things found a new kind of equilibrium.  In the meanwhile, people weren’t dying and Damien could go out to the corner store now, or what passed for it in this part of the world.  Sure, Maze was always there but Maze was there to stop hostiles and roll her eyes aggressively when he bought kitsch mugs.  She couldn’t really stop people from seeing him at the fresh produce counter and surprise-suiciding out of newfound devotion.  And so far she hadn’t even had to try because Damien could throw all his compelling power at Chloe.

Chloe would come over when she wasn’t working, leaving Trixie with Detective Espinoza or downstairs with Mazikeen.  Damien would _push_ and _push_ while she would watch him impassively and Lucifer would eventually excuse himself after a lot of throat clearing.

It was working.

Of course, it meant he couldn’t leave.  He was nearly as dependent on Chloe as Trixie was, and Trixie was _eight_.  Damien had somehow wound up even more reliant on the good detective than his own stupidly besotted father.  There wasn’t much about the situation that wasn’t embarrassing and deeply abnormal.

Embarrassing and abnormal was an ok baseline though, compared to almost everything before he left New York.  And anyway, Chloe was nice.  There were just two immediate hiccups that Damien had to sort out for himself.

 

* * *

  

The first thing was that, technically, he didn’t need to be expending his energy by putting his hands all over Lucifer anymore.  This was a problem because he didn’t actually want to stop.  He _should_ stop.  There was no good reason to continue (apart from Lucifer’s… everything) and Chloe’s relationship with Lucifer was a very good reason to cool it.  But neither of them had said anything about it to Damien.  Damien still didn’t even have his own _room_ in L.A., let alone his own place.  He slept in his dad’s bed every night even though that _couldn’t_ possibly be ok anymore.

That was the second hiccup.  He’d started to think of Lucifer as his dad.  It was mostly Lucifer’s fault.  For all that he hated it when people complained that the devil made them do it, this time it was definitely all on him.  _Knowing_ someone sired you in a drug induced haze was one thing, but Lucifer was so damn proud of Damien that he kept referring to him as his son, to _everyone_.  And he _kept_ being proud of Damien even when no one was around; just being relentlessly happy at him for being alive and around in a way that was completely bewildering but never even slightly false.

Damien didn’t need someone to tell him that his promo shots for Lux were excellent – he knew they were.  Her didn’t need to hear that he had a good eye for when something didn’t add up in one of Chloe and Lucifer’s homicide cases – he’d played investigative journalist enough in the field.  He already knew that being a war photographer when you thought you were mortal was (idiotically) brave and, while nice to hear, he didn’t need reassurance that he looked good every time he wore something more formal than a Henley.  But Lucifer didn’t even seem to think saying these things was a big deal and after a while Damien stopped trying to fob it off or counter with stories of the other, more talented people he knew.  He just said thank you.

Lucifer also constantly referred to his own father as _dear old dad_ , so Damien heard the word a lot.  And somehow between the one thing and the other, something must have just… clicked in his brain.  It wasn’t merely intellectual anymore.  Lucifer wasn’t just a devoted, fallen and very accidental celestial sperm donor.  Damien looked at him and at least half the time he actually thought _dad_.

It was so weird.

The last time he had had a dad, Damien couldn’t have been _less_ wanted.  Of the two fathers who’d ever set out to kill him, Satan had turned out the kinder.  It put back something nameless that had been taken away, so much so that Damien didn’t try to stop himself from being just a bit smug every time Lucifer said “And this is my son, Damien,” to an invariably confused but charmed mortal.

So far it hadn’t been something he thought about during sex.  Maybe he was still human enough to need that psychological barrier.  Damien wondered if he ever looked at Lucifer and had that soft, comforting thought whether the heat that rose between them would fizzle out.  And if that would help him stop wanting Lucifer so much.

 

* * *

 

He took the problem to Lucifer.

“There’s something I need to try,” he said.  They were on the balcony watching the pollution set L.A. on fire with the sunset.  Lucifer arched an eyebrow at him. 

“in bed,” he concluded. 

Of course, Lucifer started unbuttoning his shirt without even asking what it was.  _In for a penny_ , he thought, and opened his mouth again.

“I need to call you dad.  While we’re having sex.”

That stilled Lucifer’s fingers at the buttons over his chest.

He frowned at Damien.

“But you do.”

“No I don’t.”  It was one of the few things Damien was still relatively sure of.

“Well, not with _words_ ,” said his father obliquely, “but it’s still _there._ ”

“I need to say it out loud.”

Lucifer, being Lucifer, didn’t ask him why, or when.  He just put Damien’s hands against the buttons on his shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

 

* * *

 

“You should probably say it while you still have words.”  It was a frank reminder that while Lucifer never shut up in bed, Damien tended towards intensely non-verbal.

“Shut up.” He muttered anyway, and inched forward.

Lucifer was on his back, skewered on half of Damien’s dick and already trying to push for the other half.  He hummed and writhed and watched Damien with bright eyes.

“Go on then, you pervert,” he encouraged gleefully, still not in on the plan that Damien was trying to wean himself _off_ the incest, not make it _worse_.

Damien rocked into him and watched his face. 

“ _Dad_ ," he said, and while it rang true, it didn’t make him feel any different at a _ll_.

His dismay must have shown on his face because Lucifer laughed at him.

“Stop pouting, I told you it was already there.  It was _always_ there.”  His body was a hot press around Damien’s dick and he was somehow definitely still goading him.  Damien growled and thrust.  _Hard_.

His insufferable father groaned like he’d never heard of shame. 

“ _That’s_ more like it.” He grinned fiercely at Damien.  “You may not be the _smartest_ son-”

Damien’s whole body caught in a shudder.  Heat licked up his spine and pooled in his stomach.  _Christ_ , he thought, and fought to open his eyes with no knowledge of when they’d closed. 

_“Again,”_ his voice was hoarse and barely there but Lucifer wasn’t an idiot, didn’t need more than that. 

“My _son_ ,” he was saying, as Damien fucked desperately into him.  His father’s voice was already heavier than any mortal’s. “My own, my _boy_.”

Damien was ablaze under every inch of his skin.

_Oh God_ , he thought secretly, _I got this so wrong._

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been saying it all along but I suppose you’re still human enough to need _some_ words,” Lucifer conceded apologetically, after they had tested their new discovery thoroughly enough to establish a pattern.  

Damien resolved to worry about it tomorrow, if at all.  It had grown late and he was still in his dad’s bed.  He may as well sleep.

 

* * *

fin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Milton’s Paradise Regained, where Satan tempts the son of God and the son replies.
> 
> My headcanon for this verse is that Damien sounds progressively more British the more times he spends with Lucifer. This is in part because I think the Antichrist would be (however unwittingly) at least a little prone to mimicry, in part because one of the ways children get parents/adults to like them/not kill them is mimicry, in part because I like Bradley James’ actual accent and in part because the Omen sequels place some of Damien’s schooling in England. That hasn’t been made clear in the show, which doesn’t consider the Omen sequels as canon, but there you go. 
> 
> Lucifer now possibly drinks Laphroaig out of this http://cdn.notonthehighstreet.com/system/product_images/images/002/042/767/original_world-s-best-dad-coffee-mug.jpg


End file.
